


May Be Perfection

by the_math



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Bottom!Hannibal, M/M, Masturbation, mystery orgasm, post-orgasm stuff, pretty much Will's pov, so you know who's on top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_math/pseuds/the_math
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham explores Hannibal Lecter's seams. It is fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May Be Perfection

"Maybe this was a mistake."

Will smiles knowingly at Hannibal's nearly flawlessly disguised hesitation over what was about to transpire. His discomfort towards the probabilities, the ever disconcerting unknown. Exposure. Weakness? Oh yes. Will only found the man more beautiful, Dr. Lecter's skillfully yet poorly concealed emotions endearing, alluring, _delicious_. Especially so in his totally nude state. Will himself in quite the opposite state - free of restraints and clothed in his favorite grey tee and pajama bottoms. His smile widens just a touch as he sees Hannibal's eyes flick from Will's shirt to his own bare chest, the unique display of discomfort can only serve to make him more attractive. Hannibal hadn't been able to hide much of anything from Will since he'd discovered the doctor's most deeply hidden secrets. Will could seen the man for what he was — what he truly was — and he couldn't hide from Will anymore. At times, it annoyed Hannibal to no end, but it mostly piqued his curiosity, made him appreciate Will for what he'd always thought him to be: perfect. Even Hannibal hadn't allowed himself to believe he could love so strongly. No one could quite measure up to his dear Will, and now, they both knew it. A dangerous thing, that. Dangerous in all of the best possible ways.

"Nonsense. It'll be fine," Will breathed, just enough of his smile lingering to draw Hannibal back into the moment, if only for an instance. " _You'll_ be fine." Will climbed onto the bed and braced himself over a well-restrained Hannibal Lecter before putting a comforting hand to Hannibal's cheek, his thumb idly rubbing the taut skin there. The four-poster bed came in handy after all, Will thought, eyeing the fine black rope deftly securing Hannibal's right wrist to a post — the same material keeping each of Hannibal's limbs well restrained at each corner of their luxurious bed. Will was pleased with the knots, he always was. Feeling content with himself was easier to come by lately. Once he'd accepted what his good doctor had been rightfully pushing Will to realize, things became a lot simpler. Jack Crawford held no meaning to him anymore - pleasing the man nor saving the lives of strangers; neither any longer a priority. Dr. Lecter supplied Will with new activities in their stead, and he eased into the new lifestyle swiftly and with pleasure. _Because_ of the pleasure? He didn't know or care why. Will gazed into Hannibal's dark, haunting orbs. Pleasing the doctor came so easy to Will. "You trust me." 

"I do," Hannibal replied, stated simply like the fact it was, giving away no more or less to the untrained eye. Will beamed with pride, removing his hand to rest it on Lecter's chest. Hannibal's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the urge to shift away from the touch.

"Then don't worry." He can't keep the smile from his lips. Yes, he was quickly growing fond of this side of Hannibal. Concern softened the doctor's features, stole years away from him. Will's expression changed to one of pure desire. He needed to see... He needed to—  
"Will--" That was as far as Hannibal got before Will began sliding his hand down the doctor's chest, fingers flattening the gorgeous gunmetal shaded curls of hair there before leaving them to twist back up into their natural state. He watched Hannibal's eyes, unblinking, not wanting to miss the slightest twitch. Lecter stared back, managing to hold nothing back from the professor. Control was such a hard thing for him to let go of, but oh how he wanted to tonight. He pulls lightly at his restrained hands, squirming away from Will's ghosting fingertips, his lips pressed together as he mostly maintains the pace of his breathing — only through his nose. Naughty naughty, Will thinks. That won't do. He needs to see, hear, smell, taste, _feel_ everything Hannibal Lecter had to offer. His hand runs down the softer path of hair, painfully slowly, smoothing over a thicker patch of hair now and then running it down the inside of the man's shivering thigh. "Wait." He said it calmly, watching Will intently. Will smirked at the curiosity of it. No, he would not comply with that.

"You don't really want me to stop," Will purrs, the side of his mouth quirking up in a familiar smile. It was true. Hannibal was merely testing his dear Will. _Would_ he stop? He supposed not. He supposed correctly. "Which is perfect." Will sits back on his knees, straddling the doctor so that Hannibal's most deserving parts for the evening are in reach and on display. "I have no intentions of stopping." They both look down at Hannibal's half-hard cock. The doctor's attention returns to Will at the sound of a cap clicking open. Hannibal watches intently, feeling everything as the professor pours a generous amount of oil over his genitals and thighs. Secreting the bottle back into his pocket, Will runs a hand up each of Hannibal's upper thighs, smearing the oil before bringing a hand to wrap around the bade of the doctor's shaft, busying the other with fondling the man's balls. The swallow that followed was audible, Hannibal squirming with effort now, his muscles taut, beautiful, perfect. Will wastes no time, stroking his doctor slick, and to full, aching hardness in record time. Hunger clouds his hooded blue eyes as he watches the doctor pull at his hands, fingers flexing, and trembling legs squirming below. Will knows he can bring Hannibal to his release in seconds now if he wants to and he really wants to, _needs_ to. So he does. Hannibal is a tense and trembling string of grunts when he comes. The huffs of breath through his ecstasy are soon replaced with a beautifully weak whine and then moans of urgency when Will decides to keep going.

Will needs to be closer now. He wants to feel every shiver, hear every moan and gasp, desires to taste the little cries as they pass Hannibal's lips. He rises to face his exquisitely desperate doctor, his hand never ceasing its ministrations. And Hannibal **is** stunning like this; fascinating. His doctor's breaths leave in soft but sharp whines of pleasure and _pain_ and Will lies flush against Hannibal's left side and breathes in the air, smelling, tasting, _learning_ the feral scent and flavor. He could do this for days. Running his left hand through the doctor's mussed hair while his right keeps its pace on the man's painfully slowly softening cock, he loves the shivers he experiences every time he runs his thumb over the so impossibly sensitive head. "Will, _please_ ," Hannibal breathes, the words soft but strangled, uneven, delicate. Will memorizes the sound, storing it away with the rest of his mind's favorite things.

"Please what?" he smiles wickedly at his quivering doctor. He watches as a bead of sweat on Hannibal's forehead flows down into the man's hair. The current look of his usually ridiculously well put-together partner is one he can die happy after having seen upclose. A photo could only do the reality injustice. He's after mementos tonight, not truly interested in conversation, so he waits for no response and brings the focus of his attention to the shiny head of Hannibal's still half-hard cock. He wraps his index finger and thumb around the base of the head, sliding his thumb up and down and across the underside of it, and is rewarded with the unraveling of his typically tightly wound Hannibal Lecter. The whines, muted half-cries, the soft whimpers and sobs are more than he could've dreamed they'd be. Will can appreciate the strength behind Hannibal's sleek body now more than ever. He's not sure but can imagine that the doctor's wrists and ankles are likely chaffed and perhaps even rubbed raw in some places. He's fighting the restraints with all he has, growling and grunting when his body isn't quivering with overstimulation. Will simply adores him this way — his head tilted upward, his eyes now and then closing to roll up into the back of his head, his perfect pouty lips snarling then quivering, his tongue more often than not plastered to the roof of his mouth as he bares his teeth. It's the most undisguised he's ever seen his beloved Dr. Hannibal Lecter and he wants to experience it over and over again.

Will settles back to simply watch his equal writhe as the residual sensations of the overstimulation continue to wash over him. A curious frown ghosts over his face for a split second as he realizes that somewhere along the way, he'd managed to find his own release, the stickiness plastered to his still clothed genitals. Indelibly perfect. When Hannibal's body relaxes fully, and his breathing is just shy of silent, Will asks, "Ready for Round 2?"

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a long time ago. Super duper anything but sober at the time. Fished around the kink meme for a bit yesterday (PAGES, SO MANY PAGES) to see if anyone prompted something like this. No dice. Sooo here it is.


End file.
